That Dream within a Dream
by Life is but a Dream2000
Summary: A prebebop session with a soulful style delving into the unknown world that we had thusfar only seen through flashback in brown. Spike and Julia: the beginning to the romance, the heartbreak, the waltz through life in Parker style. More Chapters to come.


Hey fellow fanfictioners. Wow, it's been awhile since I wrote down anything and I must admit—I feel a little rusty! Upon my most recent check, my last update was somewhere around the vicinity of a year ago…maybe ten months? Either way, heap long time and I'm glad to be back presenting you with my latest baby in the literature sense. The inspiration for this story came from watching a few late night episodes of Cowboy Bebop on Spike's Birthday and wondering what it would be like to court this enigma of a woman. What kind of influence did she have over Spike in the old days that even after all those years; she still had such a hold over him? And thus we enter, for better of for worse.

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of the characters and plot points therein.

The sun was setting on another day on Mars, casting its final rays over the crater edges of the electronically climate controlled city. Rush hour was upon the denizens of Albus City, so nobody on the highway noticed when a sleek-model black car pulled off on the exit to one of the more deserted parts of town. The tinted windows revealed as much as the mirror sunglasses worn by its occupants as it sped along, lonely street to lonely street, every once in awhile turning down an alleyway as if trying to throw a non-existent tailer off of their scent.

The sounds of tire screech reverberated off of the tired old buildings of the quarter as the car came to a quick stop in front of a structure that seemed all too new for this part of the city. Mirrored windows covered the outside surface almost from top to bottom, all in all enclosing about 7 stories. The passenger side door opened and a man's head shot out immediately looking this way and that down the street. He was a young man of no more than 25, scruffy in appearance and fashion with a torn denim vest and cowboy boots to complete his street ensemble. Though clearly deserted, he kept his head constantly swiveling down the street as he crawled out of the car and ran around to the other side to open the door. As he turned the corner of the car, a symbol came into view on the back of his jacket—one of a yellow bird in flight. Stylized, almost Sumerian in design, it was also tattooed on his wrist as he went to open the door.

"See anything?" a voice barked as the black car door opened to a cloud of smoke.

"Nothing, all clear", the minion responded, his head ever swiveling as his nervous voice echoed off of the pavement.

"For your sake, I hope so…" the voice sounded again from inside as four sausage fingers curled around from the inside of the doorframe. A man of more than healthy body weight oozed out of the backseat of the vehicle, his red tinted eyes swaying slightly as he gained some slight footing on the pavement. "Now help me God-dammit! You think I can make it to that place myself!"

"Pretty big talk for someone who's here as a representative…" the minion muttered under his breath as he reached out an arm to support the man. He gave the driver a quick nod and the tires squealed again as the car sped out of sight.

"I heard that!" the man snapped, taking a few cautious steps towards the building, "I'll have you know that the syndicate I represent is highly favored and highly feared by your own!"

The younger man laughed as he tried to get his burden to the door faster. "Right, like any syndicate could ever strike fear into the Yellow Phoenix!"

"Oh you'd be surprised at the level of influence the Red Dragon already has over Mars…."

"Red Dragon? I thought you were here from the Black Tiger…"

"Are you sure that nobody followed us? There's nobody around?" By now the man was close to wheezing under his own weight.

"Answer my question first! Who are the Red Dragons!"

"IS ANYBODY THERE!"

"No! Nobody followed us, and even the people in the building probably don't see us! Now tell me, who--"

"Good!" The man suddenly spun around and knocked the lackey square in the jaw, sending him sprawled and unconscious onto the pavement. "Cause it's already hot enough in this suit without you lighting a fire under my ass!" Straightening his tie the best he could with his chubby fingers, the man continued wheezing and waddled the rest of the way to the door. Lowering his sunglasses as he got to the door, he pressed his thumb to a keypad and bent over as a red beam of light shot out for a retinal scan. After a few seconds delay, a little green light dinged on the keypad and the doors slid open.

As the man walked in the doors, he gave a quick look around. Three elevators greeted him on the far side ahead of him and to his left was a man sitting behind a desk reading a comic book with his feet up. Giving a wheezed cough, he made his way over to the desk and slammed his fist down on the counter to get the watchman's attention. "I'm here to see Tzu" he barked.

The watchman looked up from his comic and gave the man a once over. "Mr. Tzu is to be disturbed by appointment only. And you are…?"

"My name's irrelevant, and besides I'm here on official business", the man said, pulling out a file from inside his jacket. It was a regular manila file except for a small emblem on the side, that of a small tiger, snarling and about to strike curving around a sword. "If you people here can't keep track of the appointments that are made weeks in advance then it's your problem, not mine."

The watchman took one look at the folder and took his feet down with a sigh. He put his comic book down on the counter along with the gun he had had trained on the man the entire time. Clicking a button underneath the desk, he pointed off to the middle elevator whose doors had opened with a slight _whoosh_. "Take that up to the top, he'll be expecting you."

"He had better be." The man gave a curt nod and snatching up both the folder and the comic book off of the counter, made his way over to the elevator. As the door closed behind him he could hear the man behind the desk, "C'mon man! That's an original Amazing X-Men #141! It's an antique assh-"

"My antique now…" the man said with a chuckle, stuffing it away into his jacket along with the folder. He watched the numbers light up as the elevator inched its way further towards its goal. Finally the doors opened again to reveal a scene different from the one downstairs. The windows were covered in dark curtains of a deep gold and potted palms were scattered here and there for decorum. The lighting was dim, casting the entire room in an eerie glow all but for over by a desk to the far right and the carpet was a deep blue except for the center where the same emblem of the yellow bird was stamped in the same gold as the curtains. The sides of the room were covered in shadows, though a few outlines could be made of men standing guard. Behind the desk sat a swivel chair with its back to the room, turned instead to face what looked like a wall of security camera footage—about 30 screens displayed everything from empty hallways to interrogation rooms and over in the far corner what very well could have been a bedroom.

His eyes shifting from one side of the room to the other the man slowly made his way over to the desk, reaching into his jacket pocket as he did. "Chang Tzu…" he said, addressing the man in the chair.

The chair turned around slowly, revealing an oriental man in his late thirties. Completely stone faced with wrinkles just forming on the sides of he mouth and eyes, he stared at the man for a few seconds before raising an eyebrow. "I don't think that I have any appointments set up for today whoever-you-are, you'll have to leave."

"It isn't my fault that your secretaries are incompetent, I made this meeting weeks ago." The man pulled the file out of his jacket and flashed the emblem. "I'm a representative from the Black Tiger."

With a countenance completely devoid of emotion Tzu lifted his hands and uttered a single syllable in Chinese. The men who were standing in the shadows made their way out of the room, each turning their heads to give the man a look before stepping off onto the elevator. The room cleared, Tzu motioned towards a chair in front of his desk and the man plopped down into it, his hands resting on his stomach and the file.

"Now then, what business does the Black Tiger feel that they have with us this time?" Tzu asked steepling his hands in front of him and staring with a smug look. "Our last dealings with your kind ended in betrayal and examples made of a quarter of your men. Come to try again?"

"Actually no," the man said, "I've come to settle things."

"Settle?" Tzu said with a sardonic smirk.

A slight click and then hissing noise suddenly filled the room as smoke began to pour out from around the man in the chair. Before Tzu could react it had almost completely filled the room, cutting off his field of vision so he could barely see his hands in front of his face. "What's the meaning of this!"

"I told you. Settling a score…or perhaps even starting one." The voice came from beside him and as Tzu turned his head to see the speaker he came face to face with a Jericho .451. He opened his mouth to yell but the shot rang out before he could even inhale. He fell to the ground, blood trickling from the close-impact wound on his forehead as behind him a scarlet puddle grew bigger and bigger.

Kicking off his shoes the man ran for the curtains. Pulling one aside to reveal a hidden staircase he headed down just as the elevator door whooshed open to a dozen armed thugs. He could hear them yelling to one another and signaling as he rounded the second terrace, grasping at his tie as he did. The jacket was next as he took the gun and comic book in hand, flinging off the garment and sending a paperless file folder sailing into the air. Just as he rounded the third-story staircase he heard them hot on his tail.

"Death isn't such a bad thing, but Jesus! Give me something more glamorous than this!" He groaned through clenched teeth, willing his legs to keep going. As he was one flight away from the bottom, he heard the gun go off from above him. The shot came squarely into his face from the shooters point of view and he tumbled in a spectacular tuck and roll the rest of the way down, running into the exit door with a thud.

"I got 'im!" the thug yelled from three flights above.

"That's what you think…" a voice reached the lackey's ears just as he looked down and saw the door close.

Sprinting through the lobby, the man heard a noise from beside him and gave the watchman just enough time to exclaim, "What happened to your face?" before shooting him square in the shoulder, sending him reeling over his desk. He smiled a slightly deflated smile as he rushed out the door, almost pulling it off its hinges, sidestepping the still unconscious lackey and leaping into a waiting car. "DRIVE!" he yelled as he snatched at his face, clutching at the wound site and pulling his face off. He shook his head as his afro was revealed and began wiping impatiently at the blood that was seeping down his cheek. He began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, eventually giving up and ripping it open to reveal a Styrofoam layer with a yellow Tortoise Shipping Company t-shirt underneath that. Tossing it all to the other side of the backseat, he stuck his gun along with his head out of the window to see if they were being followed. Breathing a slow sigh of relief he slumped down in his seat, searching through the pile of clothes and such with one hand.

"So," came a voice from the driver's seat, "how'd it go Spike?"

"Ha ha ha…" he replied sarcastically, pulling out the comic book and flipping it open.

Obvious? Maybe. More chapters to follow…yo.

-Life is but a Dream2000


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